


Fragmentation

by AgeOfAlejandro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Character Death, Harry's shitty childhood, Multi, Tragedy, potentially disturbing imagery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-30 06:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgeOfAlejandro/pseuds/AgeOfAlejandro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pieces of lives and moments in time in the world of Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Now or Never

He was very aware these were probably his last days, his last hours. When Regulus had made up his mind this time, he had made it up for good. This once he wasn't going to back down and it wouldn't be because he was too scared to do otherwise. Not like the last time he had made a leap like the one he was preparing to make, the kind of leap that makes or breaks your future. Last time, it had involved mad men and burning black ink and cowardice. Not this time. No, not again. This time he'd go forward on his own two feet, of his own accord, into the dark.

Somehow, Regulus felt he should take strength from his decision. And he couldn't and it made him feel like a coward, like Sirius had often called him. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was going to take a step that Sirius wasn't and his brother would either never know or never believe it.

Somehow, Regulus felt he should find a way to enjoy these last days, the last days he would ever see the sun, would ever feel the wind on his skin, the last days he would hold his wand. Felt like he should get shitfaced drunk and find a girl for the night. He couldn't. He could barely hold anything down, and his nerves never quit jangling in his head, in his hands, in his feet. Regulus thought he'd fall apart, leave his fingers on a table, leave his legs on a chair, leave his eyes on a pillow if he stopped moving, even to sleep.

He was aware of the looks his mother had been giving him. His decision had lent him new clarity and Regulus saw with new eyes. If this was it, if this was the end, then shouldn't he see for once? Shadowy veils between him and the rest of the world had no place here, not when his days were numbered, when he could count the hours, minutes, seconds, between him and his suicide mission. Regulus read those looks; she was worried about him, and wanted to...reach out. Regulus supposed that was the right word for it. He saw her clench her hands, saw her stop herself from touching him, saw the little frown on her face. Her uncertainty was palpable, thick and heavy in the air when they were in the same room. Dad was gone, Sirius wasn't to be spoken of...he was all she had left.

He wanted to reassure her, sooth her fears for the moment, lie to her, tell her he was ok and that she shouldn't be worried. He didn't want her to hurt. For all that she was Mother, she was his mother. Dad was gone, Sirius wasn't to be spoken of...she was all he had left. Regulus didn't want to be another source of heartache. It was inevitable, but a falsehood, a lie, an untruth, would end the worry, the pain, for a while. At least that way, she would know that he had cared about her, cared enough about her pain to lie.

The abyss yawned as the days crept by, deep and black and watery, and he stood on the very edge. He wasn't certain if there was land or air beneath his feet, whether or not He Who Must Not Be Named knew yet, or whether his little suicide mission would even make a difference. At dawn, he squared his shoulders and called Kreacher. Today was the day. It was now or never.


	2. Glasses

Petunia knew that they couldn't afford not to get Harry glasses. It wasn't Normal for a child to be left squinting because he couldn't see, especially when it was obvious the Dursleys could afford to buy him a pair.

But she didn't want to and it wasn't just because they had never added him to Vernon's insurance (she had hated paperwork necessary to put him on it). He was a freak and glasses were so normal. They made him seem more Normal and he wasn't, she thought when he peered up at her owlishly from behind the cheap frames they had gotten him. The technician smiled at him as he kicked his legs idly as he sat in his chair and he smiled back when he looked at her.

"Such a polite little boy!" she said with a laugh when he thanked her shyly. "You like being able to see, hm?"

He nodded at her with a little smile on his five year old face as he climbed off the chair and scooted behind Petunia.

"He's such a nice lad," the girl told her. "Such a pleasure to work with! So many little kids are fussy and won't sit still or look at me and he was so very good. You must be proud!"

Petunia forced a smile. "We try," she said, ignoring the way Dudley was making a mess of the girl's display of glasses. "Dudley," she called to her son, "let's go. We'll get you some ice cream on the way home, ok?"

Dudley turned and made his way to her as Petunia tried to keep the girl from noticing what Dudley had done and then swept away, both boys in tow.


	3. Wrapper

Alice peered at him as he walked up to where she and Frank sat, in the bright sunshine before a open window. Frank was leaning over the window sill as Neville approached and turned around when he heard the sound of his son's footsteps.

"Hullo Mum and Dad," Neville greeted them carefully. The wrong tone, he had discovered, was liable to set his father off.  
Both his parents smiled at him, a look of confusion and apprehension mixed in with Frank's smile. Alice's expression was tinged with something, too, but of what, Neville wasn't sure. His gran brought up the rear and greeted her son and daughter in law just as carefully as Neville had.

And so began the first monthly summer visitation with the Longbottoms at Saint Mungo's. Alice and Frank would gradually relax and then play like children, rolling a ball between them on one or the other of their beds. Neville remembered playing like that with them when he was very small – four, perhaps five years old. He and his mum would go through a pack of gum together and they would roll a ball around between them and his father for a while, until Gran or one of the Healers, distracted by discussion of cures and hope, finally noticed and scooped the three of them off the floor.

Frank, who had been perched on the chair opposite of Neville, dropped his glass of juice on the ground and began to cry, tears running down his face like a little boy, interrupting Neville's thoughts. Alice caught his anxiety and began to sniffle, looking like she might be joining her husband in tears, too. It was too late to stop Frank from crying, but Neville hurried to stop his mother from crying as the Healers and his Gran tried to calm Frank down.

"Shh shh, Mum," he said softly, reaching for her hand and taking it in his own.

She stopped sniffling and look at his hand for a moment before meeting his eyes. Her expression changed, and she now looked like she was trying to remember something. Alice's blue eyes studied his face, anxiety creeping into her face.

"It's all right," Neville said, trying to sound reassuring as he gently squeezed her hand. He didn't like the mounting distress on her face. "It's ok, Mum. Don't worry about anything, everything will be ok." She didn't understand what he said, but it looked like his tone had gotten across to her and she calmed.

Frank eventually relaxed again and settled next to his wife, leaning on her shoulder as he studied his son, too. His face registered little more than passing interest, but Alice still looked like she was trying to remember something. She retrieved her hand from Neville's and fished out a gum wrapper from a pocket somewhere in her clothing, offering it to him. It was a blue wrapper, with silver broomsticks on it and he took it, flattening it on his knee. She smiled at him, a look of recognition in her eyes.


	4. Memoirs

It had been a very, very long time since Harry had thought much about the War. He had had other things to occupy his attention – putting the world back together, Ginny, their children, work...the list went on. But here he was at ninety, looking through old notes and letters, journals and pictures of people who had long ago moved on.

Harry didn't particularly want to do this but Morgan, that blasted granddaughter of his, made too much sense. He was getting old, and if he died before everything got written down, the story – the story of everyone who had fought before, with, and beside him – would be told by other people. Who were sure to get it all wrong, just as much as those stupid unofficial biographies that had been popping up since he was two, he thought irritably.

And it had been quite a task to collect everyone's stuff. He had had to wrestle with a ghoul who had taken up residence in the attic of cottage at Godric's Hollow for possession of his parents and Sirius' boxes, the damned barrister from Dumbledore's estate, Peter Pettigrew's niece for his papers, such as they were, and it had taken weeks for the various Weasleys to gather up all of Arthur and Molly's stuff. The only easy ones had been asking Teddy to borrow Remus and Tonks's papers and getting Severus Snape's stuff from Hogwarts. Harry was determined to do right by Snape, too. He had fought hard and lost it all and never really had a place in the sun like he deserved.

But that brought up a whole new question, one Harry had been wrestling with for weeks. Should he reveal Snape's motives? His feelings for Harry's mother? That would be baring the man's heart for all and sundry and everyone would know. He knew that Snape would probably demand that no one ever know about his school boy crush on Lily Evans and how it had lead him to the heart of the Voldemort Wars.

But on the other hand, in order for the lessons not to be repeated, perhaps it was necessary to show Snape's redemption, his rise and fall, and how he had surrendered everything for the memory of one woman.

It was a question Harry could not answer.


	5. Susan

Neville was very nervous about today. He felt he had to introduce Susan to his parents, that they both had the right to know about each other, even if his mum and dad would forget about her within a few minutes. But he didn't want to scare Susan off, either. He had fallen very much in love with her and didn't want the sight of his broken parents to drive her off.

Gran, with her usual tart efficiency, had said if she was scared by Mum and Dad, then she didn't deserve him. Neville supposed she was right, in some way. If she was scared off by his parents, then she wasn't worth it.

But he was still scared she would be.


	6. Tired

Grimmauld was finally empty, after days of constant activity at all hours of the day and night, and Molly was exhausted. She put her head down on the table, resting her cheek on her crossed arms and stared at a stain on the wall. She didn't know what the stain was and suspected she was probably happier that way. For a while, idle musings filled her brain as her mind tried to relax. She was so tired, but felt still too wired, too busy, to sleep.

Molly had been playing the part of quarter master, cook, maid, and nurse for a year, because everyone else was too busy to do it but her. Nights of easing back to sleep of screamers, tending most wounds because they couldn't risk Saint Mungo's, and trying to clean a decade's worth of dirt and several lifetime's worth of filth out of a giant house had taken it out of her. And no one seemed to notice; not even Arthur, who had always gone out of his way to make sure she knew he loved and appreciated her and her support of him and their children. Molly was so very tired.

And she wondered if she had anything left to give.


	7. Resistance

Severus Snape looked forward to this all being over with. One way or the other, it would be, and he'd hopefully be freed of these stupid children. Bella wanted to take the reigns after everything was said and done, and he would relinquish them in a heartbeat, if it came to that. He hoped it didn't, but one never knew.

He found the Carrows exhausting and frustrating. They may have been assigned to him as his deputies, but they should never have been let near the school. Severus did not particularly like children, and had spent much of his tenure at Hogwarts wondering why on earth he was still there, but he absolutely forbade them from torturing the children as a punishment. Merlin knew it didn't stop them; he saw graphic evidence of that everyday, including on Longbottom's face of all people. His instructions did, however, tone down what was done to the students. They were merely Crucioed rather than flayed nearly to death and left to the cold Scottish winter night.

The door to his office opened and Alecto came in, grinning like a rabid dog as she towed a struggling Ginny Weasley along by her hair; fat, pale fingers like glow worms wound through curly red hair. "Look who I found! Little Miss Blood Traitor!" she sing-songed. Weasley had been on the run for days, after she made her contempt for Amycus clear in class. And Amycus had such a delicate little ego.

Severus fixed the Weasley girl with a blank stare and crossed his arms behind his desk. "You may go, Alecto," he said as Alecto dropped Weasley's hair and the girl fell heavily on her knees.

He could see Alecto's pouty expression in his peripheral vision. "Can't Amycus help? It was he that she insulted, after all."

Severus looked up at Alecto, and enunciated his answer very clearly. "No. You may go."

Alecto's expression darkened but she did as she was bid, and they waited in silence as the staircase ground down, singlaing Alecto departure. Off to whine to her brother, Severus was certain.

"Weasley," he started, as she stood up and dusted herself off. "Sit," he pointed at the shabby chair across the desk from him. "This is idiotic of you and all the rest of your little resistance movement. You are only making things more difficult for yourself and for me." He ignored the girl's cold, defiant expression and went on. "You will serve a month's detentions with Hagrid, where you will muck out all the chicken coops and do anything else he instructs you."

"Why should it matter to us if it makes it harder for you?" the girl challenged, her eyes fiery with hatred and anger. "You let them torture us!"

Severus attempted to reign in his temper, and said with a cool he did not feel, "Because I can make things much harder for you than they can, and for all your classmates, even if they are not participating in your little group's adventures. And that wouldn't make you popular with them, would it?"

Weasley's jaw worked as she tried to find a way out of this, and remained silent when she couldn't. Severus was unlikely to follow through with the last threat; the children who were behaving should be rewarded. But she didn't know that.


	8. Fight

The first spell Sirius saw was a bright blue one, which sizzled overhead like a fire cracker. Conversation stopped and everyone looked up at the sound to see the long wake of plasma still in the air. Sirius's stomach sank with dismay and anxiety. No one had said it but they had come to the little village Peter had grown up in to escape the noise and the low, loud rumbles of war that echoed through the magical world.  
Such hopes had been misplaced, he thought as the sounds of pain and triumph echoed against the trees and spellfire strayed over the tall wall. They were still a ways off yet, but they were coming.

Wordlessly, everyone started to pack up. Lily picked up the basket they had kept their dinner in, and James went around to collect the empty beer bottles from the various hay bales they had been sitting on, while Remus, Sirius, and Peter picked up the odds and ends. It was the work of approximately two minutes to clean up and then they were hurrying off, with Peter pushing his old bicycle down the country lane and the rest of them keeping pace, listening with pricked ears for danger.

It came a little too quickly for them to escape. A blazing yellow ball took out a large section of the wall, showering the road with stones and mortar and James yelled out when a stone the size of Sirius's head hit his leg. There was an audible cracking noise and Lily clung to him to keep him from falling.

Bellatrix appeared in the twilight, Apparating onto the remains of the wall. She smiled, all madness and teeth, when Remus and Sirius pulled out their wands. "Little Sirius is here! Are you and your friends running _off?_ " she asked with a little laugh. "I thought you Gryffindors were known for courage. Perhaps Dumbledore was wrong to bring you into the O-o-order," Bella sing-songed as she peered at them in the descending dark and noticed Lily trying to hold James up as best she could. A predatory look crossed her face. "Never thought you'd be one for red heads, Potter," she commented idly, twirling her wand now.

James shifted as much of his weight off Lily as he could and glared at her through pain-fogged eyes. "None of us have any idea what you're talking about-"

Bella cut him off. "Of course you don't," she said sarcastically, pointing her wand in earnest now. "Nevertheless, you're both blood traitors, and that's reason enough!"

Remus and Sirius had always been quite good at dueling, but it took both of them to hold her off while Peter and Lily hauled James out of harm's way as best they could. Bella was enjoying herself immensely, cackling and hooting with laughter like a monkey. Remus and Sirius were having trouble keeping her away, both of them taking a few serious hits, and she started to close in on them.

The fighting had migrated their way, which Bella failed to notice, and she went down with a piercing shriek as a spell hit her in the back, rolling down the small hill the wall had stood upon. Right behind her, however, was Lucius Malfoy. He descended upon them with a smug expression on his face. "Such a shame, such a shame. Walburga hasn't forgiven you, you know. I don't think she ever will; not even if you come groveling back," he said to Sirius.

"Good!" Sirius responded vehemently, watching Malfoy carefully. If anything he had been taught as a boy about dueling was useful, it was that a man's torso could tell you something about his next move.

Malfoy sneered at him and lifted his wand high in the air. "Cruci-"

Remus hit him in the chest with an Expelliarmus, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying ten feet back into the field behind the remains of the wall, knocking over a few Death Eaters on his flight. The fight continued on as several Death Eaters climbed over the fallen and either shot at Remus and Sirius or back at other fighters, of whose allegiance Sirius wasn't sure of.

It felt like forever before the fighting ended and by then they had been pushed back to the edge of the road, almost into the ditch behind it where James, Lily, and Peter were. Peter had set James's leg by now but it would be unwalkable for a couple days after, and Remus and Sirius were in bad shape. They held up their wands defiantly, still high on adrenalin, as the other fighters approached them and ready to fire on them if necessary. Lily crept up to stand with them; she was still fairly fresh and Sirius felt a wave of gratitude for her as she stood with them.

A wand was lit, blinding them, but no attack came. As their vision returned, they found Dumbledore and a few others staring at them.

There was a long moment of silence before Sirius broke it. "...What was all this? Was it related to what Bella said about you and an order?"

Dumbledore looked dismayed and searched them. "You'll need medical attention," he said instead of answering Sirius. "Are Mr. Potter and Mr. Pettigrew with you as well?"

"Yes," Lily said carefully. "They're behind us. James has got a broken leg," she explained, "and we needed to get him out of the way."

Dumbledore nodded. "I shall ask Madam Pomfrey to tend to you who are injured. Especially you, Mr. Black," he said with a worried look on his face.

"What's this about an order?" Sirius called to him as he turned away. "I'm not going to stop, Professor. I want to know!" Sirius noticed Remus nodded out of the corner of his eye. Between them, assuming the Headmaster didn't Oblivate them or something, could wear him down into telling them.

"I know," Dumbledore said. "Go with these people and they'll get you to a safe place. Madam Pompfrey with be there shortly."

Sirius was very wary of going with them, but if Dumbledore said they were all right, then they probably were. And Remus did need to be looked at he thought, noticing the pale green cast his friend's face was taking on.


	9. Debate

"Let them in!" Alastor urged. "They're strong and a good asset!"

"They're too young," Minerva reminded him. "Fresh out of school not three months ago."

"This is bigger than that, McGonagall. They're good. Very good. Did you see what they managed? The two of them held off Lestrange and Malfoy and god knows who else! And they're still in one piece!"

Minerva's lips thinned and she looked at Albus. "Don't let them in, is what I say. They're so young and-"

Alastor scoffed. "We need people too much for that to matter," he pointed out. "Yes, they're young. But they're strong! And they're good! We need talent like that if we're going to win this."

Minerva glared at him. "Do you mean just Lupin and Black? Because if you do, you must realize that all of them will end up joining. They're attached at the hip, those boys, and Evans is Potter's girlfriend; he'll tell her and then we may as well let her in." She shook her head. "If they were older, I'd be all for letting them in. Evans and Potter are excellent - even better than Lupin and Black in some respects, and Pettigrew excels as a healer."

"All the more reason!" Alastor told her vehemently.

Albus sighed, and both turned to look at him, awaiting his decision. "I'll think about it. Alastor has excellent points." Minerva's expression flattened angrily. "As do you, Minerva," he added. "As I said; I will be taking both views into account."

Minerva glared at him again. "You'll be letting them in, won't you. I know you, Albus Dumbledore! Don't you deny it!" she added when he opened his mouth to responded and stomped out.

Alastor watched him in the ringing silence after the door slammed shut behind Minerva and Albus made an effort not to let anything slip. She was right of course, but Alastor didn't need to know that. The man was liable to try to push him into things he didn't want to do if he thought he could get away with it, and that was the last thing Albus needed.

"I'll think about it," was all he said.


	10. Ash

Tom had little but contempt for Muggles. They were worthless, vile creatures. Pitiful. Filthy. But, this, he thought as he watched the bombs drop from heavily laden German planes, was almost magical. The deep, perfect boom of the explosion shuddered through him, and he loved the way the fire bloomed like a brilliant flower, jewel-like against the black buildings and winter-white snow. It spread like a weed, and the ash moved in drifts on blasts of hot wind from the inferno below. It hung in the air between gusts, so soft and white, and he held out his hand to catch some; it melted on his tongue and he thought it tasted like salt and pine. He licked his hand clean as a new sound echoed through the streets. There were _screams_ and, oh, they were wonderful, carried on those same hot winds that brought fresh ashes to him.


	11. Birthday

Harry would never admit how much birthdays meant to him, Ginny knew. She also knew exactly why, too, and consequently tried to make them as subtly special as she could. He didn't like big things like parties for that sort of thing — he was happy that people knew when his birthday was at all.

"Harry," she whispered, gently shaking him awake on the morning of his twenty sixth birthday. "Harry!"

He woke with a sudden, sleepy grunt and looked up at her blearily in the early morning light. "Wha?"

"Happy birthday," she smiled at him and dropped a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly and snaked an arm around her waist with a contented sigh.


	12. Sticks and Stones

Harry was going to be in so much trouble when he got back to the house. He had spent all afternoon after school running from Dudley and his friends, and now he wasn't going to be able to finish his chores on time.  
 _"Why don't you slow down, freak? We wanna talk to you!" Dudley yelled, chasing after his cousin in the afternoon sunlight. Piers and his friends parroted Dudley, hoots of laughter echoing down the street. Harry tried to ignore the words, tried to let it all side off his back..._

 _...but_ freak, weirdo, _and_ boy _all_ start to mean something after a while. Harry knew that. He knew that very well.


	13. Immortal

Abandoner! How dare he leave his child in a muggle orphanage? _Rage, red hot and snapping with serrated teeth flowed through him as three people cringed at his green lit fury._ How dare he leave the child's mother to die in the streets!  
 **s.h.e. w.a.s. too. good f o r          y            o          u**  
Death is pathetic. Death is failure. But death, like failure, is preventable. I can't—won't—follow in her foot  
        s  
           t  
              e  
                 p  
                    s              **ڲ** ****


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